


Slippery When Wet

by leiascully



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Community: loveintheloo, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-22
Updated: 2009-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-03 07:18:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Surely the girls had been perkier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slippery When Wet

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: S3  
> A/N: Long overdue for the [**loveintheloo**](http://community.livejournal.com/loveintheloo/) challenge. My prompt was "gravity" from [**angiescully**](http://angiescully.livejournal.com/). Um, it's done now? "Sweet asses of Kobol" originated with [**sleepismyfriend**](http://sleepismyfriend.livejournal.com/) and spread like wildfire! Happy [**smut_tuesdays**](http://community.livejournal.com/smut_tuesdays/)!  
> Disclaimer: _Battlestar Galactica_ and all related characters belong to Ronald Moore, NBC Universal, Sci-Fi Channel, and Sky One. No infringement is intended and no profit is made from this.

Laura stood in front of the mirror. She had borrowed the Admiral's personal washroom to freshen up between meetings; he'd insisted, and she'd accepted gladly and graciously. She'd used the toilet, washed her hands, and splashed a little water on her face - no problem since she'd run out of makeup months ago - but she still felt dusty and grimy. The air on Galactica had that recycled tang and so did the water. She hadn't felt clean since she'd boarded Colonial One, come to think of it, except for that once, on New Caprica, when she'd found the lake and swum for half an hour.

She wanted a bath. A long, long, deep bath, deep enough to nearly submerge in, hot enough to make her face flush and her hair curl in tendrils around her face. She wanted bubbles, oils, perfumes enough to make the entire battlestar sniff in appreciation as the vents kicked on. Gods, a bath would be heaven. Now that she had imagined it, the bath was all she could think of: a room paneled with cedar, lights low, a candle on the sink.

Laura checked her watch, the one she had to wind every morning now, after the batterings it had endured. She had enough time for a shower, surely. Admiral Adama had given her run of his head, which had to mean the shower as well. If she was quick, she'd make it back, just a rinse to sluice the grit from her skin, even if it was all in her mind.

She who hesitated would be lost. Quickly she unbuttoned her jacket, unzipped her skirt, and unbuttoned her shirt, hanging them all from the peg where she imagined the admiral - Adama - _Bill_ \- hung his towel. Or perhaps his shorts, she thought, smirking to herself. She left her panties on the sink and undid her bra with a sigh of relief. It was old now, not particularly supportive, good mostly for keeping the Quorum and her aides and Adama's people from seeing her nipples during long chilly meetings. They were standing out now, as she cupped her breasts in her cool hands, evaluating herself in the grimy mirror. She would never understand how the ships could be so cold; they were insulated from the bone-chilling black by tons of metal and machinery that generated its own heat.

At least the water was hot, when she turned it on. Much hotter than her personal shower on Colonial One. She fiddled with the knobs, letting the spray temper, and stared at herself in the mirror. Gravity had not been kind, the last few years. No spa, no gym, no multivitamins, no moisturizer: she felt saggy and wrinkled. Surely the girls had been perkier before the end of the worlds. Surely her thighs hadn't puckered that way. Under her critical hands, her hips seemed softer. Funny how that still happened on strict rations. She sighed and stepped into the shower.

Her hair was in her face. She twisted into a knot at the nape of her neck and tipped her face up so that the water pattered over her neck and her collarbones. It felt good. She found a sliver of soap that smelled like Adama - like Bill, she thought - she couldn't be in his shower pirating his soap and think of him as _Adama_, lofty and brooding in the uniform. Not when she was lathering her bare skin with the soap that touched his bare skin. He was fastidious for an old bachelor; no hairs in his soap. She swept suds over her breasts, her belly, her thighs, luxuriating in the clean feeling.

Dimly, she heard a noise in the other room. Tory, probably, fretting over her. Laura ignored it and soaped her ribs. It was difficult to wash her back and hold her hair away at the same time. She twisted around, reaching for that spot between her shoulder blades, and Adama came into the washroom.

"Oh!" she said, clutching at the soap, which almost slipped out of her fingers. She crossed her arm defensively over her breasts.

"Madam President," he said, averting his eyes, but not before they'd taken in the expanse of her naked back. "I didn't know you were still in here."

"The water was running," she said. There was nowhere to go and no way to hide. She looked over her shoulder at Adama.

"Plumbing's been on the fritz," he said. "Makes noises sometimes. I'll go." But he didn't move.

"Oh, you've already seen everything," she snapped. "You might as well get me a towel."

He stepped into the other room and came back with a folded towel. "It's not fresh, but it's clean."

"Thank you," she said, trying for frosty, but the heat in his eyes was melting her. She held out her hand for the towel, but she was still holding the soap.

"I could wash your back for you if you want," Adama said. She blushed. In the uniform he seemed removed again, distant, not the man she'd been imagining as she washed herself. She looked at him and caught the twinkle in his eye.

"Please," she said with all the dignity she could muster, and dropped the soap into his palm as he shifted the towel to his other hand. He stripped off his jacket, stuck his cupped hand under the spray, and reached for her. She stepped back, letting her shoulders settle against his touch. His hand moved slowly over her skin, slightly rough and very warm. She hummed under her breath and arched back, leaning into the pressure. It had been so godsdamn long since anyone had touched her.

"Oh, frak it," she said to the wall. "Get in here."

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked courteously, with an amused undertone to his voice.

"Don't dissemble with me, Bill," she said. "Get your ass in here. That's an order."

His hand slipped from her back. Behind her, there were noises of undressing: zippers, buckles, the scuffle of his shoes. He stepped into the shower and suddenly all of his skin was against hers and she was leaning against his broad chest. She shifted against him.

"Came prepared, did you?"

"I'm a soldier, Madam President," he said, his voice rumbling through her. "I sleep standing up."

"I'm sure you do," Laura said. She pivoted in his arms. "Well then."

"How about a little foreplay?" he teased, looking down at her with those bedroom eyes.

"I have a meeting in twenty minutes," she said crisply. "Unless you perform like a man a third your age, I'm not sure we've got time."

"There's always time," he said, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts. "It's the privilege of command."

"I enjoy punctuality," she retorted, sighing as he thumbed her nipples. "Why don't we save the trimmings for another time?"

"If you insist," he said. "I think this'll be easier if you face the other way." He turned her gently, steering her out of the spray, and nudged her legs apart. She shivered, watching him over her shoulder. "You sure about this, Laura?"

"Absolutely," she breathed. His fingers teased her folds apart, stroking in all the right places, and oh, she'd had no one's touch but her own for so long. It was electric: her whole body was wired to the friction of his fingertips. He pushed her knee a little farther, pressing closer until she could feel his cock bumping against her, eager.

"Last chance," he said.

"Launch," she said, and he huffed a laugh and pushed slowly into her. "Oh, gods."

"Yeah," he said. "Been a while."

"Mmm," she said. "But we've got now."

She was slick from the heat and the sheer pleasure of the shower, and he moved easily in her, finding the places that undid her, made her lose her grasp on the situation. She should be drying off, slipping back into her clothes, smoothing her hair, and going over her notes. Instead she was naked, wet in all senses, breathless in the arms of the Admiral, had one soapy hand caressing her breasts and the fingers of the other rubbing her clit in a way that suggested he had a lot of practice. She ground her ass into his thighs to make him grunt, smiling to herself as her hair untwisted over her shoulder. Her feet were slipping, but he was solid bracing her.

"How you doing?" he asked.

"Excellent," she said, biting her lip. "Exquisite. More." He surged up into her, pressing her against the cold metal of the wall, and the contrast of his heat at her back and the chill on her front was incredible. She was conductive under his touch, the thrill and the ecstasy running through her like electricity, and gods, she almost wanted to pause here on the ascension, never peak, never lose this feeling, but he was moving in her and there, oh, there, she hadn't thought she was _this_ close, but she was sure the ends of her hair were sparking and she was shaking in his arms. The sizzle seemed to last forever; she lost track of time; she was sure the current through her body was surging through the ship's circuits. She pushed hard back against him, willing it to linger, but he had buried his face in her neck, his teeth grazing the taut muscle there, and he was shuddering inside her, groaning.

"Oh, gods," he swore, clutching her against him.

"Sweet holy asses of Kobol," she agreed. He stepped back, seeming reluctant, and she turned to face him again. "Admiral."

"Madam President," he grinned, sluicing water over her body with his hands. "Consider yourself to have free run of my quarters."

"Thank you," she said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to prepare for."

He bowed slightly, kissed her swiftly on the cheek, and scooped up his uniform on his way out. She smiled to herself, turning off the taps and reaching for the towel he'd left for her.

She left her underwear on his sink.


End file.
